XVII

Arlian had fallen into a stupor of despair and defeat. Not for reason of being in a cell and awaiting his end. All his worries were for the kingdom—for its people.

And for Mariel.

Thinking of her beautiful face, of the hardship, the pain, and most likely her ultimate death, pained him so much, he tried to push her from his mind. Had he the chance to keep her from enduring from what’s to come, even by taking terrible action to do so, he would have at least considered it.

Gods!

He felt sick again. Arlian had wretched twice in the corner. Now he only heaved like a sick animal when the fate of the world became too much for him to bear.

Had he been able to do it again, he would have assassinated Prince Balthazar—assassinated the Grand Bastard, Klause Schuar. Any villainous actions he took, regardless of the consequences on himself, would have been preferable to the outcome that was now manifesting itself.

Surely there had been allies. He still had allies. But he had no way to communicate with them. It was over.

Perhaps the Council of High Magic, Kandrion—the generals who supported him… perhaps they could still change the outcome.

But no. They would not.

These men, his friends, his allies and his countrymen were either too apathetic, or two faithful to the ideas of Aevalin.

It made them weak, that they were hampered by laws and conducts while their enemies conducted themselves only seemingly within those same confines, only to step out of them whenever it suited them—whenever they wouldn’t be caught.

Sitting on his book, he must have looked calm. Perhaps even serine. And yet Arlian was presently in a murderous rage.

Hours had passed. Morning had come. He knew this much, as the pale blue light of the early morning shone through the window in his cell. It was too high to get a look outside. Not that it mattered.

He stirred when he heard the key shoved into the lock, turned and then the door opened. It was a group of men. At least five.

It was time.

Time for Arlian’s execution.

He should have written Mariel a letter. A final goodbye. Some encouragement for the future, even if only a false encouragement. He could have warned her, told her how to best conduct herself so that she might survive what was to come.

Arlian was a fool.

His despair had been too encompassing for him to take any such actions, and besides, there was no parchment for him, no guard to call to request such a thing.

Perhaps before… before he died they would allow him a short while to—

“Arlian!”

He frowned. That was Kandrion calling him! He lunged from his bed and grasped the bars. “Prince Kandrion.”

Arlian couldn’t help but smile.

“There you are, my friend,” Kandrion said. He too smiled, if only in a forlorn way. “I’ve come to release you.”

His heart leapt inside his chest. “But you brother…?”

“My brother is not the king yet!” he said sternly. “He may have won the choosing and he may be solidifying his power bases even as we speak, but he is not the king. He cannot simply have my loyal man imprisoned at his behest over false accusations.”

Arlian slunk back from the bars.

“Your brother spoke true.”

“What?”

“At least in so far as my motives for being at the castle that night are concerned.”

“And yet,” Kandrion said as he raised a finger at Arlian, “my father still died. He was murdered, you see.”

Arlian nodded slowly.

“The King’s Council—called in the night. Lady Jorrissiana changing her vote from me to my brother during that whim. It’s a plot. We all know what is happening before our eyes.”

“You must call an investigation, Kandrion. Begin an inquest.”

“Oh I intend to, my friend. I intend to. But as I said, while we speak, my brother is shoring up his power base. He is already claiming he is kind. I’m afraid the clout that is following in his wake will have him crowned before the dust settles.”

Arlian said nothing. Knew Prince Kandrion was already giving in to defeat. But he needed to try one last time to persuade him.

“Then do not waste your time,” Arlian said. “Gather your generals and supporters. Make war on your brother.”

“My father’s soul would weep for it, Arlian.”

“Will his soul not weep for the end of Aevalin—the kingdom of his ancestors?”

The prince smiled pitifully. “I’ve already taken council with Lord Liro. It seems my brother has been amassing weapons—forging them in secret. He has gold enough to hire ten mercenary corps—of which I know he already has. The subtle evidences are there. Lord Liro does not think the King’s Army can defeat his well-positioned forced, if our knowledge of correct on the matter. No, the army is too fractured, fighting battles and adventuring off in distance lands. My brother saw to that, with his adventurism. Ever his plan to weaken the army that could challenge him. No, my friend. This war you speak of would be over before it began.”

“Now,” he continued, turning to the jailor. “Release him at once.”

The guard did as he was told, jammed another key from his huge ring into Arlian’s cell door and unlocked it. They stepped back, and Arlian ventured out.

“Leave us,” Kandrion commanded of the guard. Behind him, at his back, his councilors and other supporting lords were there, all men and women Arlian recognized from one castle bound ball or another.

“Why should I even leave this dungeon, my Prince, when all is lost?”

“We must stay to hope, Arlian. Go now and be with your wife. I hope to the gods that I see you again one day.”

As he had said his brother had no right to put Arlian in the dungeons, he was telling him he had to leave now. Balthazar’s sway and power must be more reaching than he was letting on.

Arlian nodded. “Do all that you can, Kandrion. To stop this.”

“I will.”

“Should you need my aid, you have but to ask of it. Now I go to meet lady Mariel in the kingdom of Haven where she has family.”

Kandrion nodded, then suddenly embraced Arlian. He couldn’t help but allow his eyes to water somewhat.

“Goodbye, Arlian. My friend.”

“Goodbye, my prince.”

“M’lady,” the innkeeper said. “Will you be leaving us, then?”

She brushed a drop from her cheek with the palm of her hand, nodded. “Yes. Please ready my horse.”

“You have many packs. Are you travelling far?”

She nodded absently. “Yes. To Haven. I have some family there.”

The tall burly man nodded. “A beautiful kingdom. Not so beautiful as our Aevalin—but quit beautiful in her own right.”

She said nothing.

“I’ll have your animals readied at once then, m’lady.”

She nodded, put a coin on the counter.

“No, no. That will not be necessary.” He pushed the coin back to her.

She smiled politely.

The skies were a dull grey. The morning showed promise, but this late afternoon, it looked like rain. She hoped not—but she had a quality riding cloak just in case. As their servant, Justin—who was traveling with her—lead their animals out to the King’s Road, Mariel glanced back toward inner Aevalin—to the castle.

It was not beautiful.

Not now.

As she looked, a man on horseback crested the hill. She thought he looked a lot like her love, Arlian. She had wanted to stay, but decided to do as he had told her.

How she missed him.

The man on horseback so looked like her beloved husband, it made her heart ache. And then the man lifted his arm, his hand spread as he waved. Her heart jumped as the man on horseback—as Arlian—galloped to meet her.